


Hiding in Towers

by dramatispersonae



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Pain, Humor, M/M, Trapped In Elevator, james ironwood attempts workplace safety violations but this is otherwise sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:05:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramatispersonae/pseuds/dramatispersonae
Summary: Three huntsmen walk into an elevator...





	Hiding in Towers

**Author's Note:**

> thanks again to [aromantic-eight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbmifan/pseuds/aromantic-eight) for extensive help editing, and to [patrexes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrexes/pseuds/patrexes) for giving it a look over for egregious wrongs (because i STILL forget the correct way to use possessive apostrophes). edit as of 7/20/19, changed the title to a lyric from [Awkward Time In Elevators](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/pinkspiders/awkwardtimeinelevators.html) because it took me longer to find an adequate replacement for the placeholder title than it did to write the fic

The elevator from the Beacon Vault came to a smooth stop. Ordinarily, this would be unremarkable, but Ozpin had ridden this one countless times over the decades and had a very good sense of when each of the stops were. It was rather too soon for any of them. He frowned at the doors, which showed no signs of opening.

 _Oh dear,_ he thought.

When the doors continued not to open, James glared at them. Then he rapped his fingers against the doors, as if they were stuck, or perhaps delayed, and making his disapproval known would force them to function. This was not the case. It was not the doors, Oz thought with a glance at the solid metal ceiling, that were stuck.

“Shit,” Qrow said quietly.

Ozpin knew that Qrow was thinking it was _supposed_ to be only Ozpin and James in the elevator, inspecting the Vault in light of James’ planned security upgrades. But Qrow, Oz suspected, hadn't wanted to miss a chance at spending time with both of them in the same place. For all that he frequently chose it, solitude did not suit Qrow, and neither Ozpin nor James would deny his company.

He could tell Qrow that the elevator should have been inspected six months ago and it was just a matter of time before something like this happened. He could tell Qrow it wasn’t his fault. It wouldn’t help. Qrow was all too willing to take the blame for things that his Semblance might have caused, and Ozpin couldn’t _prove_ that if he and James been alone the same thing would have happened.

“Well, we’re boned,” Qrow said. “Anyone have a signal on their scroll?”

“We can’t be stuck.” James said. He sounded personally offended. Ozpin supposed that malfunctioning technology was far less common and of _much_ more concern in a city as technologically advanced and technology dependent as Atlas. Not to mention, it was James. He tended to take any sort of disorderliness personally. “There must be an override—”

“All things being equal, I would rather not try to force the elevator to move when we don’t know what made it _stop_ ,” Oz said. He took his scroll out of his pocket. Three bars, which wasn’t bad for still being underground. They were directly beneath the tower, of course, but that was hardly a guarantee.

In a situation like this, there was only one person to call. He tapped Glynda’s icon and held the scroll to his ear as it rang.

“Headmaster,” Glynda said in a clipped voice.

Hm. That was an interesting way for her to answer a call.

“Judging by the formality, you’re not alone,” Ozpin said drily. “And you aren’t happy with whoever is with you.”

“Yes,” Glynda said.

“Students?”

“Yes.”

“Anything on fire?”

“Not for long,” she said. Ozpin heard a faint crunching sound. “I can deal with it alone, though if you’d like to see to things _personally_ …”

“Regrettably, I’m stuck in an elevator.”

Silence. Ozpin wished he could see Glynda struggle to maintain the appearance of stern seriousness when all she wanted was to place her head in her hands and hope desperately that Ozpin had not said what he had just said. At least he could imagine it. He was quite familiar with the way her eyes narrowed, one corner of her lips twitching with the effort of restraint. “I see,” she said.

“The Vault elevator, specifically. We completed the inspection, but encountered difficulties on the return trip.”

“Of course.” She paused. “This ‘we’…”

“General Ironwood and Qrow are also in the elevator.”

“Of course.” Glynda was very good at sounding deeply tired, utterly unimpressed, and unimpeachably professional all at once. Ozpin supposed he’d given her many opportunities for practice. She deserved a vacation, if she were the type of person to take vacations. Since she wasn’t, Ozpin would just buy her some very good chocolate. As soon as he was no longer stuck in an elevator. “ _Regrettably_ , it’s going to take time to resolve this. Give my apologies to the General for the inconvenience.”

“I will not. I know you’re only looking for an excuse to say his title to scare the students,” Ozpin said.

“Perhaps.”

Whatever had happened, she must be _very_ unhappy about it. “Take the time you need to wrap up the current situation before coming to the tower. We don’t seem to be going anywhere.”

“I don’t imagine you are,” Glynda said. She hung up.

Ozpin pocketed his scroll, faintly pleased that she had responded to his joke in kind. Then the scene before him registered, and he blinked.

“Good, you’re done,” Qrow said. “Make him stop.”

While Ozpin’s attention had been on the conversation with Glynda, Qrow had jammed himself into the farthest corner of the elevator, shoulders hunched forward so his back could fit against where the two walls met. He was gesturing towards James, who was in the process of removing the panel surrounding the elevator buttons. Wonderful. It looked like, by process of elimination, Ozpin had been elected the adult. “James, _what_ are you doing?”

“Looking for the override,” James said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

“I don't know that there is one.” Or that they should use it. Oz had been quite serious about not wanting to force the elevator to move. He was hardly an expert on elevators, but he was certain that sometimes the elevator _not_ moving was the better option. He did not care to find out if this was one of those times.

“It’s worth checking.” James had a miniature screwdriver clasped between his thumb and first two fingers. Not entirely unexpected, considering James’ commitment to preparedness and efficiency, but still surprising enough to be worth noting. It explained how he had removed the panel so quietly. It also raised the question of what, specifically, had prompted him to carry a miniature screwdriver on his person, but that was a question for a less precarious time.

“James,” Ozpin said, in his very best listen-to-me voice. It worked, if only because James _hated_ when Ozpin used that voice on him. James turned away from the panel, scowling. “Do you know anything about elevator maintenance?”

“It can’t be too complicated,” James said, which both was and was not an answer.

“If you’ve been inspired to learn it after this event, I don’t think any of us would object,” Ozpin said. He hadn’t stopped using his listen-to-me voice, or the teacherly phrasing that came with it. “However, I think we object _very much_ to you teaching it to yourself, right now, without any kind of guide.”

“I have a guide,” James said, affronted. “I looked it up on my scroll.”

“You can’t _wiki_ elevator repair!” Qrow snarled, leaning his upper body forward in a parody of a lunge. Oh no. Escalation.

“I don’t feel like waiting to be rescued,” James said. “There’s no hatch in the roof. Making our own opening would be a bad idea. So—”

“Good, I’m glad you think blowing a fucking hole in the ceiling isn’t a good idea,” Qrow said, throwing his arms as wide as he could without exiting the corner. “I didn’t realize that was even an option worth considering. Why don’t you just try _cutting the cables_ , we’ll get somewhere real fast that way."

“Gentlemen!” Oz said. His nerves came out in his voice, slightly too loud for the enclosed space. All three of them winced. Oz adjusted his volume. “If we could all avoid killing each other, Ms. Goodwitch will be coming to assist us as soon as her duties permit. James, _please_ reattach that panel. Qrow…” _Don’t antagonize James_ was definitely too much to ask. Antagonization was Qrow’s outlet for most feelings. “…get out of the corner, you’re going to hurt your back."

“I will not, I’m not _old_ ,” Qrow muttered. He came far out of the corner enough that his shoulders were no longer making a right angle with his spine at the junction, but no further. Oz would take his victories where he could get them.

James reattached the panel. “I could have fixed it,” he said.

He might have been right. Advanced prosthetics didn’t necessarily guarantee mechanical prowess, any more than flesh limbs guaranteed a superlative knowledge of biology, but he knew James had taught himself a great deal partially out of necessity and partially out of a personal dislike of relying on other people for anything. Engineering was comfortable territory for him. Furthermore, James was a quick study, and remarkably capable of accomplishing things through the power of sheer bull-headedness.

Ozpin still did not care to find out if elevator repair was one of those things.

“It would have made me very nervous to watch,” he said, truthfully.

James sighed. “Fine.” He sat down on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him. “Did she give you an ETA?”

“Not as such,” Ozpin said. “Apparently, things were on fire when I called. I imagine sorting everything out will take some time.”

“Great,” James said.

Qrow slid down to the floor and kicked his legs out, imitating James’ posture. The size of the elevator meant that to take that position, one of Qrow’s legs ended up slung over James’. Oz was certain that was half the reason Qrow had chosen to sit that way. "Come on, Oz, join the party," Qrow said.

Ozpin considered it. He hadn’t looked forward to spending however long it took Glynda to reach them standing, but if he sat down, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up. An elevator floor was hardly designed with chronic pain in mind. Sitting was, however, still more sustainable than standing, and at least there were people to help him if he got stuck. Sitting it was. He carefully lowered himself to the floor, using his cane for balance until its length became prohibitive. Once seated, he considered folding his legs to preserve what little space they had left, then decided that was pointless. He might as well stretch his legs out too.

He had just enough room that he did not end up putting his feet on James. But he could easily tap toes with him. Oz did so, just for fun.

James tapped him back. “You good?” he asked, and Ozpin nodded. James turned his head towards Qrow. “You?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Qrow said. He shifted, eyes flicking down and away. “…sorry about this.”

“Nonsense,” Oz said brightly. “I’ve learned a valuable lesson about the importance of regular elevator maintenance. James is no doubt going to learn a new thing to put together and take apart when we get out. I’d say we’ve both benefited from the experience.” James shot Ozpin a look, and Oz decided that last part may have been a bit much. Oh well.

James leaned forward and patted Qrow's leg. “Don’t worry,” he said.

“Sure,” Qrow said, in the way that meant he was trying to sound like it wasn’t a big deal when it very much was. He stretched, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head from side to side. “Anyone have an idea for how to pass time?”

James raised his eyebrows. “Do you?”

“We’re not having sex, that’s the last thing the elevator needs,” Qrow said. He pointed an accusing finger at James. “Yeah, I thought about it, you were thinking about it too. I saw those eyebrows.”

Oz pressed his knuckles to his mouth, stifling a laugh. “Cleanup would be an issue.”

“I was thinking moving around would be the bigger issue,” Qrow said. “Cleanup’s not an issue if you swallow.”

James choked. Oz didn't, but only because he stopped trying not to laugh.

“You’re _terrible_ ,” James told Qrow.

“I’m a delight,” Qrow responded. “Fuck you.”

“I thought we just established that wasn’t happening,” James said. Oz braced his elbow against his thigh and held his head in his hand so he didn’t lose his balance from laughing, all the tension of the situation converting instantaneously into mild hysteria.

“Now look what you did. You broke Oz,” said Qrow.

“I did not,” James said.

“You killed him.”

“He’s fine.”

Ozpin might have interrupted their bickering if he were capable of drawing a breath without immediately breaking into more laughter. He might have made more of an effort to do so if he thought this was aggressive bickering rather than fond bickering.

He felt James’ hand on his leg. “Breathe, Ozpin.” Oh, he was getting a little light-headed, wasn’t he? Trust James to maintain a close watch on the state of everyone’s health. Ozpin took a shaky breath, then another, and another, exhales punctuated by brief giggles.

“The great Ozpin defeated at last—by the kind of comeback I hear from my students. Good work, Jimmy,” Qrow said.

“You say that like me defeating Ozpin is a new event,” James said. “That’s it,” he said to Ozpin as his breathing evened out.

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t counting _play-fights_ ,” Qrow said. 

“Tournaments are as much a testament to participants’ skills as serious combat,” James said, with the practiced cadence of a man repeating an opinion he’d shared countless times.

“In _serious combat_ , Oz would wipe the floor with you and we both know it. Unless,” he amended, after giving Ozpin a speculative look, “you told him a joke first.”

“Thank you for your confidence,” Oz said drily. It was all the protest he could muster with his chest sore from laughing.

* * *

A loud, pained exhale interrupted the drone of the lights. Ozpin looked up from Professor Oobleck’s latest research proposal. He caught Qrow looking up, too, scroll face-down on his thigh, which left…

“What do you think this sentence is supposed to mean?” James said. He wore the distressed face of an educator trying their damndest to extend the benefit of the doubt to student whose paper they were grading. Ozpin had become quite familiar with that expression in this incarnation. He stretched a hand out obligingly, and James passed his scroll over.

Ozpin read the sentence. He read the surrounding sentences. He scrolled back up to where the student had dutifully recorded the prompt before writing their response.

“I honestly wouldn’t know where to start,” he said.

“Let me see,” Qrow said, and Oz passed him the scroll. Qrow straightened from his sideways slump.

“Oh _no_ ,” he said, with a hint of awe. “You’re on your own, Jimmy.” He tossed the scroll back to James, who caught it one-handed.

“Thanks for the help,” James said flatly. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again.

* * *

Qrow had repositioned himself, back against the elevator floor, legs kicked up against the wall. Oz had given up on pointing out the potential consequences of Qrow’s posture shortly after they had all given up on trying to get any _real_ work done. If finding new and terrible ways to contort himself was how Qrow had decided to vent his excess energy, he was welcome to it. “I spy with my little eye, something that is gray,” he said.

“It’s the ceiling. All you can see from that angle is the ceiling,” James said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ve got peripheral vision, Captain No-Fun,” Qrow said. He flexed his feet idly.

“Qrow,” Oz said.

“Yeah?” 

“Is it the ceiling?”

“Yeah.”

Oz took a moment to regret, deeply, that Qrow had picked up his habit of misdirection and run with it.

“Is it too late to reconsider sex?” James said plaintively.

* * *

“Why hasn't Glynda come to save our sorry asses yet?” Qrow asked, his whole body sprawled on the floor parallel to Ozpin, his legs over James' legs once more. James' singular concession to the discomfort of prolonged elevator confinement was propping his back up more firmly against the wall and loosening his tie slightly. Ozpin had tried shifting his own position a few times before he was forced to come to the conclusion that comfort was something that existed outside of elevator shafts. “Is this punishment for convincing you to come out on a mission with me when you had budget reports due the next day?”

It couldn’t be. Glynda was more professional than that. Then again, unprofessional behavior could be reasonably punished with more of the same… But Glynda wouldn’t leave them in an elevator over an incident several months old. Besides, James hadn’t even been _involved_.

…although Glynda would have little objection to James getting caught in the crossfire. 

She wouldn’t. Would she? Ozpin’s anxiety began to mount once more.

“You did what?” James asked, eyebrows raised. “How could you have possibly thought that was a good idea?”

“In my defense, he looked really bored. And sad. And he didn’t take very much convincing. And it was a really easy mission, just a few Beowolves sniffing around near the edge of Forever Fall. Also—”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m blaming both of you,” James said. “I might expect this from Qrow, Ozpin, but you should know better.”

“Rude,” Qrow muttered.

“And in _my_ defense, I finished the reports before they were due, brief mission notwithstanding,” Ozpin said. “Glynda wanted to make sure the latest student incident was thoroughly dealt with. I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as she can.” Less sure than he had been before Qrow brought up the possibility of revenge-based delays, but still reasonably sure. After all, Glynda had _already_ gotten revenge by passing several extremely tedious matters of administration along to Ozpin’s desk rather than dealing with them herself. She’d as much as _said_ it was payback, dropping a stack of files into his workspace saying that since he had enough time to complete his work and engage in frivolity, he might as well complete some of hers as well. 

So it would be fine. Really.

Probably.

They were going to die here.

* * *

Someone’s scroll buzzed. Not Ozpin’s— there was no accompanying vibration from his pocket. James and Qrow both reached for their scrolls. “Mine,” Qrow announced, and James put his hand down. Qrow popped his scroll open with a practiced flick of his thumb. “It's Taiyang. Wants to know if I can make it to dinner tomorrow.” He glanced around the elevator. “I dunno, think we’ll be out by then?”

“One way or another,” James said, which sounded dreadfully ominous. Ozpin remembered the fact that opening a hole in the ceiling had been a course of action James had considered, and hoped rescue would come swiftly from _outside_ the elevator.

"How is Taiyang?" Ozpin said, both out of genuine care for the man and an urgent need to direct the conversation to something that would not inspire James to start taking the elevator apart again.

"He's doing alright. Still doesn't take enough time for himself," Qrow said, with a pointed look at both James and Ozpin, "but he's getting better."

"I'm taking time for myself right now," James said. "Look at me. I'm not working at all."

"This _doesn't count_."

"And the children?" Ozpin said, a bit of desperation coloring his voice.

"Oh, they're great. Ruby's starting at Signal soon, so I've got four years to whip her into shape before she's your problem. And Yang's only got two years left. Good luck with that."

"If Beacon withstood _you_ , I'm sure it can withstand your nieces," James said drily.

"You wouldn't say that if you'd met them."

* * *

Ozpin was beginning to contemplate the possibility of taking a nap when the elevator lurched.

“Shit!” Qrow yelped, grabbing for his weapon in what was hopefully a reflex and not an indication of a plan to anchor the elevator to the elevator shaft using Harbinger.

“Can you stop us if we start falling?” James asked Oz, the slightly wild look in his eyes at sharp odds with his brisk, businesslike tone.

“I certainly hope so,” Oz said grimly.

With a metallic squeal, the elevator began to move. Move upwards, Oz determined after he managed to disentangle proprioception from anxiety. Rescued at last.

“Oh,” James said, a moment after Oz figured out that they weren’t falling. “It’s Glynda.”

“Good, because my next suggestion for how to pass time was gonna be a game of Never Have I Ever, and that could’ve gone some dark places,” Qrow said, with all the casual indifference of a cat who’d just gotten caught doing something undignified and was trying to reassert control of the situation. He got to his feet with a few off-balance wobbles and grimaced.

“How’s your back?" Oz asked innocently.

"Not a fucking word," Qrow said. "Jimmy, you need a hand?"

James extended an arm. Qrow grabbed him just below the elbow. Between the two of them they got James on his feet. Then they looked at Ozpin.

Ozpin had gone largely numb from his lower back down. He suspected that this was a mercy.

“Do you need to be carried?” James asked. It was a fair question. Unfortunately, this time it had only one answer.

“I’ll have to stand sooner or later. It might as well be sooner,” Ozpin said. He bent his legs, gritting his teeth against the combination aches and pins-and-needles feeling of his nerves waking up, and adjusted his grip on his cane. “I wouldn’t object to help, though.”

James stepped forward, slotting a hand under each of Ozpin’s arms. With James’ assistance, Ozpin rose, standing unsteady on legs he could only partially feel. He was certain that this was a better outcome than spending the whole time standing could have provided. He also didn’t enjoy it.

The elevator doors opened, slightly out of time. Glynda stood with her arm extended, crop held straight in front of her. “Oh, good,” she said. “You’re all dressed.”

“I appreciate your discretion,” Ozpin said drily. She had raised the elevator all the way to his office. It was probably not genuinely out of concern for potential nudity, but simply a matter of secrecy, since raising the elevator on the ground floor was the kind of thing that might attract an audience. Regardless of the motivation, it meant Ozpin didn’t have to wobble out of the elevator in view of whomever might be visiting the tower, and he considered that a perk. “Has the student incident been resolved to your satisfaction?”

“It will be. Once they’ve finished three months of scrub work for the fire department and a mandatory fire safety course that Professor Port has _graciously_ volunteered to supervise,” Glynda said. 

James let out a low whistle. “Can I borrow her?” he asked Ozpin. “Atlas could learn a thing or two from how she handles discipline.”

“You may not,” Glynda said. “Will you be leaving the elevator, or have you grown attached?”

“I’m out,” Qrow said, darting through the doors and past Glynda. “I gotta pee.” He disappeared out of view. Shortly after, Ozpin heard a door close. Another perk of Glynda raising the elevator all the way to his office: the private bathroom.

He wouldn’t be able to equal Qrow's speed, but he did need to leave the elevator. Ozpin took a small, exploratory step. He still couldn’t feel his feet. His legs were a different matter. He kept moving with small, uneven steps, sacrificing speed for stability. There was no risk of him actually falling—James hovered at Ozpin's elbow in what might have been a surreptitious manner if it weren’t for his size, and Glynda was capable of using her Semblance to hold the elevator still and keep Ozpin from crashing into the floor—but he had his dignity to consider. What little of it there was.

When the elevator emptied of its passengers, Glynda shut the doors with a flick of her wrist.

“Thank you,” Ozpin said.

“Of course,” Glynda said. “I’ll have the elevators looked at before tomorrow ends. _All_ of the elevators.”

“As always, Glynda, you are invaluable.”

“Unless you need anything else…” she trailed off with a disapproving look at James.

Ozpin waved a hand, tightening his grip on his cane just in case that upset his balance. “You’re free to go.”

And then she was gone. Ozpin swayed, blinking spots out of his eyes. That wasn’t good. He should sit down. In his chair, preferably.

James continued to hover as Ozpin made his way to his desk. His formerly numb lower body was alive with prickles, and his vision rippled threateningly. And his hips were stiff. Not ideal conditions for being upright, even by his standards. His knees remained relatively cooperative all the way to his chair, and then they gave out when he tried to sit, dropping him more heavily than he intended. Ozpin’s chair turned with the sudden weight, leaving him facing nearly parallel to his desk rather than towards it.

“Can I get you anything?”

“I’m quite alright. Really,” he added, at James’ skeptical look. “That was… exciting, but there’s no harm done.”

“No harm done,” James repeated, with a pointed look at the awkward way Ozpin had stretched out his legs to improve blood flow.

“Nothing permanent, surely,” Oz said. He raised his eyebrows. “Are you alright?”

“Metal doesn’t cramp,” James said wryly. “I think I might have even gotten off easier than Qrow.”

“Heard my name?” Qrow said, emerging from the bathroom shaking water off his hands. “Quit looming, Jimmy. What’re you talking about?”

“James is using you to avoid answering questions,” Oz said. The benefits of having known each other for so long were the same as the downsides—both were fully aware of the methods the other used to dissemble. If James wouldn't allow Ozpin to deflect inquiries about his pain, then he didn’t get to either. It was only fair.

“I—” James started, and that was as far as he got before he realized he was already beaten. “Fine. My neck is stiff. But it’s nothing.”

“Mm. Well within expectations,” Ozpin said. “Would you like me to help?”

James sighed. “If it would make you happy.” He crouched in front of Ozpin, tilting his head down and away to expose the back of his neck.

“It would,” Oz said, leaning forward. He pushed his thumbs into the muscles along James’ neck, working from his shoulders up towards his skull, giving careful attention to the areas around his implants. They were extraordinarily well-designed bits of machinery. They were also attached to James’ spine. Just because they were meant to stand up to all the abuse a professional huntsman could put them through didn’t mean Ozpin should be cavalier about where he dug in his fingers.

“You guys are _adorable_ ,” Qrow said. He leaned against the edge of Ozpin’s desk and stretched his back with what he evidently thought was a casual motion that would avoid notice. It might have worked out better for him if his back hadn’t produced an audible popping sound.

James pointed at him. “You’re next.”


End file.
